By George & Josh Bate
Scroll through Twitter/X, YouTube, or Facebook and you’re bound to come across a predator hunting video. For those unfamiliar, these videos follow social media personalities as they disguise themselves as decoys and lure in sexual predators, often resulting in humiliation and even violence. In the new MTV Documentary Films and Paramount+ documentary Predators, filmmaker David Osit chronicles the rise and fall of the television series – To Catch a Predator – that led to this surge in modern predator hunting videos and boldly poses moral questions to his audience.
Predators is divided into three parts. The first of which explores Chris Hanson and his hit NBC series To Catch a Predator, the second part explores the flurry of copycats the show created, and the third part catches up with Hanson and the current stage of predator hunting. Throughout the documentary, Osit uses interviews, raw footage, and, eventually, his own to story to take a fascinating look at the evolution of digital justice, obsession, and the blurred lines that exist, when justice, humiliation, and entertainment are all dangerously intertwined.
Arguably the most impressive aspect of Predators is its thoroughness on an admittedly complex topic. Unfolding over a lean 96 minutes, Osit’s film weaves together a clear, structured narrative with interviews and other behind the scenes footage of famous stings to craft a cohesive and detailed look at this corner of the internet. The story begins by telling the origins of predator catching with Chris Hansen’s To Catch a Predator, detailing how news programs like Dateline teamed up with law enforcement to craft a convincing sting to lure men in. The narrative then transitions to the incredibly chaotic, and even more muddled, vigilante-like era of online predator catching, in which these confrontations are seen by millions across the internet. The filmmakers take their time to showcase how things evolved from televised journalism advertised as a “warning sign” to parents on the dangers of the internet to the decentralized social media spectacle that it is today. In the process, the technological and cultural shifts that helped to push this evolution are highlighted as well, which again shows the detailed and compelling evidence that this story provides.
The documentary does well to not alienate those who are familiar with To Catch a Predator and the entire corner of the internet it gave rise to. There’s plenty of factual information packed into Predators but also never-before-seen peeks behind the curtain and, more poignantly, a demand for the viewer to look inward at their interest in these programs and the morally gray areas these interest lie in.
Predators become particularly captivating in its second half, which more so centers around modern-day hunters who followed in the footsteps of To Catch a Predator and host Chris Hansen. These content creators, many of whom can be found on YouTube, TikTok, Twitter, and more, paint themselves as online crusaders for justice, something that the film challenges by pointing out their monetary motivations, fame-chasing tendencies, and ethical blind spots. The film is also careful to not overtly define every predator catcher as immoral or driven by their own self interests, instead trying its best to present the information objectively and let the audience come to its own conclusions.
For instance, the film features an enthralling segment following the YouTube predator hunter Skeeter Jean (who goes by the name Skeet Hansen in his videos). Here, the filmmakers simply show the behind the scenes mechanics of one of Jean’s videos and then allow the audience to make an opinion for themselves about its moral standing. In doing all of this, the film puts forth a nuanced portrait of a cultural phenomenon that has by and large avoided any sort of meaningful scrutiny over the years. In showing these newer figures in this world, the documentary adds a valuable layer to the story, one that feels long overdue.
Looming large throughout the entirety of the runtime of Predators is Chris Hansen. He’s seen in behind the scenes videos and old footage from To Catch a Predator, but then makes a full-fledged appearance as he agrees to be interviewed by the team. Hansen is shown as a pioneer in this form of investigative journalism, if it can still be labeled as such (Hansen himself is still adamant that his work still is investigate journalism). The complicated legacy of such an iconic figure in this world is brought forth here, and the filmmakers aren’t shy to criticize Hansen when they feel it is warranted. In particular, Hansen’s belief that his work is still news and not reality television made for the entertainment of its viewers is challenged; despite his view that his work is a public service, the filmmakers question Hansen directly on if this is actually public shaming instead. It’s a brave move to so brazenly ask this of someone who is essentially the founder of an entire culture of online content, but it shows that the film isn’t at all scared of upsetting the status quo. One of the most striking examples of this is the film showing a recent Hansen predator catch which exposed an 18-year-old for meeting a 16-year-old – an encounter that, while certainly inappropriate, is legal in a vast number of states. Even though Hansen ultimately took the video down to backlash, it still managed to derail the teenager’s life, which is a sobering reminder of the harm these videos can cause.
That being said, Predators does stumble at times in its pursuit of nuance, especially in its final act. In questioning the motives of those creating these predator catching videos, the film also makes a somewhat vague attempt to humanize the men caught in these stings. The filmmakers are certainly right to point out the god complex and morally dubious motivations of many of the “hunters” on the internet, but in doing so, they also go dangerously close to crossing the line of promoting sympathy for the perpetrators, particularly when discussing the “loss of humanity” in To Catch a Predator’s portrayal of its villains. There’s certainly a valid argument to be made for acknowledging the complex psychology of these men that appear in these stings, but the film sometimes seems overly interested in critiquing the nature of the videos about predator hunters (of which Predators is now ironically one of) and less so in making a stark stance against perpetrators of sexual assault, two things that did not need to be mutually exclusive.
VERDICT: 7.5/10
The new MTV Documentary Films and Paramount+ documentary Predators serves as a fascinating port-mortem of a television series that gripped the nation and continues to dominate public interest. The documentary, which interestingly explores the rise, fall, and lasting influence of Chris Hanson’s To Catch a Predator, proves insightful for those already well-versed in this topic and approachable for those who are not. Thought-provoking in his approach, filmmaker David Osit poses demanding questions of both Hanson, his copycats, and their viewers that invite everyone to look inward and assess their own moral standing as it relates to their interest in predator hunting. Although the film stumbles in its failure to resoundingly condemn perpetrators of sexual assault, instead focused disproportionately on the moral failings of those who hunt the perpetrators, the film nonetheless elicits purposeful discomfort and has immense cultural significance given the popularity of predator hunting videos constantly circulating online.
